


Holocene Apathy

by ChocolateCarnival



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Anxiety, Brother/Sister Incest, Codependency, Dark Eroticism, Early 90's, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Minor Character Death, Nihilism, Pre-Iron Man 1, Protective Tea Stark, Protective Tony Stark, Separation Anxiety, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Twincest, Vogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 14:09:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCarnival/pseuds/ChocolateCarnival
Summary: Chapter 1: Rewrite‘They defied convention to paint their own illicit portrait.’Dichotomic opposites, twins born of privilege and darkness. They were so
    different and so alike at the same time. It was no surprise that in the
    depths of a neglectful household they’d latch onto the only spark of
    acceptance they could find: each other.Before morality made an impact in their lives, before they were forced to
    take over the multi-billion dollar Stark legacy – Tony and Tea Stark
    were but two innocents lost in the nihilism of the early nineties.





	Holocene Apathy

**Author's Note:**

> Let's ring in the New Year, Bunnies!
> 
> It's been a while since I've written something so deliciously dark and illicit and I couldn't seem to help myself whilst running through the plans for all my work. It has been a joy creating Tea Stark. I've always wanted to write a Stark twin story. 
> 
> The story takes place in 1991, at the death of Howard and Maria Stark so this concentrates on the twins in their early twenties. Please bear that in mind, it's going to be wild ride.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=2qk6p14)

**Chapter 1: Deicide Thrush**

  
Seeing her again was like peering into an illicit looking glass, a whimsical beauty alive in the centre of a world filled with fantastical liars and their demonic counterparts. Anthea Edwina Stark was the fairest of them all. She was balanced gracefully on five-inch black heels, her beautiful silhouette enshrined in the gossamer kiss of a fitted gown as a four-foot train dragged elegantly behind her. 

  
Tony didn’t want to shatter the small flicker of happiness he could see dictating his sister’s movements, not to satiate the anguished howl pushing to the forefront of his mind. The Royal Albert Hall was fully booked for the special midday performance, the London Symphonic Orchestra putting on a series of classic woodwind concertos now that one of the world’s foremost bassoonists was on hire from the Los Angeles Philharmonic. 

  
Tony’s beloved Thea, Tia, _Tea_. His little Earl Grey, Jasmine, Ceylon and Orange Blossom sister — the most important woman in his life — was just as in demand in her chosen field of study as he was in engineering. 

  
She was a genius prodigy in her own right, even beating out her brother’s double Masters’ degree from MIT with a Ph.D. from London’s Royal College of Music in practical theory and composition at twenty. There was no doubt they were _twins_ : completely inseparable, intimately connected, impossibly arrogant, insanely competitive and manically emotive. 

  
Even when hollow brown eyes roved the familiar line of her curvaceous hips, sensually lowered lashes and lusciously painted galaxy-blue lips; he couldn’t seem to muster the emotion to appreciate what he was seeing. She was swaying to the rise and fall of complex melodies; her gleaming black-maple bassoon resounding hauntingly against the iconic acoustic roof as she outshone every man and woman performing alongside her that day. 

  
A carefully orchestrated iridescent shimmer of oil-slick blue, magenta, cool peacock green and aqua iris had been dyed into the natural wave of her hip-length black locks. The oil-meets-water effect, dripping evocatively down the length of her spine as their mother’s hereditary tanned skin, dark hair and ethereal beauty only added another layer to her naturally effervescent soul. 

  
Tony was blinded by grief however, mercilessly forging his way backstage instead of staying in the family box a moment longer. The devastating news of a phone call several minutes earlier had prompted him passed the meagre security, a well-placed glare and growling hiss pushing passed the lone stagehand to get as close to his twin as possible. 

  
The young engineer was far too upset to be apart from Tea much longer, shock and disbelief warring painfully in the forefront of his mind as he observed, what he was sure, was the last of her whimsical innocence. 

  
Situating himself in the shadow of an offstage entrance, he knew it wouldn’t be long until his turmoiled emotions reached her. He could already see an awareness of his proximity alighting her senses, the sensual curve of her shoulders shaking off its waterfall of tension as a haunting performance flowed even more smoothly from graceful fingertips. 

  
It wasn’t until the curtains dropped and expectant footsteps turned in his direction however, that Tony stiffened beneath her probing gaze. It was like she could see straight through his rapidly crumbling facade, identical mocha orbs instantly dropping to the floor in shame as the older of two rocked restlessly back and forth on his heels. 

  
_“Tea.”_ He whispered quietly, quickly averting his eyes so that he couldn’t see the first strains of apprehension and fear clouding her previous triumphant joy. 

  
“Tony? What’s is it? What’s wrong?” The idiosyncratic click of black heels had already entered the limited range of his vision, a warm palm coming to rest against the back of his head as a haunting sweet scent swam into the forefront of his senses. He instantly tightened his grip around a trim waist, a hitched breath spilling unchecked passed pale lips as he unceremoniously heaved a smaller body against his. 

  
Tony selfishly wanted to make sure she could hold back the parts of him that were threatening to spill over. The steady thrum of a roiling rage slowly consuming him from the inside as a wave of painful irony vapidly chocked the erratic heave of his lungs. 

  
“S-Sis, I—.” 

  
_Fuck!_ Even though it would have been easier if someone else could give her the news, the older of the two possessed enough morality to know this was the only acceptable way. He didn’t want Tea to experience the same sense of loss and fear he did, the same crumbling regret and howling anguish—. 

  
“What _is_ it, Tony? Are you alright?” The brush of a sizable one-point-three-meter instrument against their side barely even registered, the engineer deliberately concealing his face in the crook of her warm neck as he prayed she didn’t notice the tell-tale wetness clinging to long black lashes. It wouldn’t take much to spill his words into gut wrenching sobs, nor for the guilt to eat him alive from the inside. 

  
_“_ It _shouldn’t_ be like this _,_ ” Tony wailed softly. He knew he should be the one providing her stability and comfort, to tell her the truth and move on. He was older, emotionally stronger, a genuine protector. But the twenty-one-year-old could barely find his purchase in reason, there was a dizzying degree of emotions tangling through his every breath. It simply couldn’t—. 

  
“Anthony? _Talk_ to me, _please._ What is it? You’re scaring me!” Tea’s voice, usually slow and sweet, was creeping towards the edge of hysteria. Warm arms had cinched around his waist in an attempt to calm his growing unease, knowing fingertips creeping up the length of his spine to shuffle through wildly mussed mahogany-black locks. 

  
Tony simply hadn’t been able to stop tugging the strands from its careful styling earlier, a silent testament that accompanied the half-moon pinpricks of pain digging into the palm of his hand. He didn’t think his new, state-of-the-art, phone survived his initial fit of rage, nor the trail of uncooperating bodies he left in his wake. 

  
The addition of deadly stilettos thankfully gave his twin a five-inch advantage over his diminutive stature, making it easier to enfold him in a full body embrace and contain the repressed shivers wracking his frame. 

  
“Tony, _please_ —. _Tell me!”_

  
“’M sorry, Orange Blossom.” He swallowed with difficulty. “M- _mom—._ Mom and Dad…” He choked unexpectedly. “T-there was a car accident.” Her protective hold instantly stiffened, calloused fingertips immediately twisting in a sea of black velvet to keep her glued to his chest. Tony didn’t have the strength to face this on his own, not whilst the news was so new and they were afforded so little privacy in the backstage darkness. 

  
“A-are they alright?” When he shook his head in the negative, too distraught to whisper anything beyond a frail ‘no’, Tea brought her forehead against his. 

  
“They didn’t make it, did they?” Tony’s continued silence was answer enough, the younger of the two walking them backwards until she could support their combined weight against a nearby wall. Several heaving breaths were tickling the side of the genius’ face, an almost hysterical giggle bubbling forth in the back of the musician’s throat as her pointed glare stilled any curious stagehand or manager trying to approach their isolated circle. 

  
Tony could feel Anthea fighting desperately for a small ounce of proprietary Stark control, a feat she seemed to achieve much easier than him as the minute tremor in her limbs finally smoothed out. Not a single shimmer of tears or upset clouded her vision the moment she pulled away, brushing her lips against her brother’s brow, whisper-sweet, as gentle fingers came up to brush the delicate red skin drawn beneath his eyes. 

  
They came away glistening wet and trembling with confused sorrow. 

  
“When?” 

  
“Hour ago. Obie called.” It was difficult to speak in anything beyond raw and inflectionless sentences. Regardless of calming considerably in her all-consuming presence, the older of the two wasn’t quite ready to face the knot of tension coiling painfully in the pit of his stomach. 

  
Twin emotionally glazed _Türk Kahvesi_ irises eventually fluttered shut at their close proximity; fragile, self-soothing, movements hitching and swaying into each other’s orbital gravity as a whispered ‘Love you’ gradually eased the depth of Tony’s frown. 

  
“Easy, Tones. Just breathe. We’ll get out of here, I promise.” Tea noted hoarsely, quietly reading the desperation in her brother’s movements as she straightened her shoulders and they wove an eccentric path through the complex backstage labyrinth. She never once let go of his hand or stepped ahead to increase their pace. 

  
Once they reached the private dressing room, Tea proceeded to disassemble, clean and pack away the beautiful Heckle bassoon with the care and speed of an obsessive professional. Her movements were somewhat stilted and unbalanced, a little hitch in every uptake of her breath as her distress slowly faded the more she immersed herself in a beloved task. 

  
Tony didn’t mind being left by himself, merely slumping into a soft suede couch as he kept his twin in the obsessive line of his sight. As long as he knew she was close and wasn’t going anywhere, he could afford a few minutes extra to compose himself. He was the ever-faithful shadow by her side, knowing full well not to interfere with her compulsive and hurried movements. 

  
When she left to inform the stage manager of her impending departure, staying only a few steps ahead of him — he could only imagine the damage that would be done to her so-far stellar career in the classical music sect. She was practically walking out in the middle of an opportunity of a lifetime, all because of his inability to control his emotions or deny his need to keep her by his side. 

* * * * 

  
The drive back to the Savoy was steeped in unbroken silence, a delicate hand twining, palm-to-palm, with its calloused counterpart. Seated in the back of a luxury Rolls, a tide of black velvet and gossamer silk was brushing against the hem of Tony’s formfitting leather jacket. Tea’s temple had come to rest against her twin’s shoulder, identical long lashes fluttering shut with unspoken fatigue as she bathed in the open display of his affection. 

  
Growing up in a negligent household with a Valium addicted mother, an alcoholic father, a stream of uncaring nannies, unlimited funds and no viable structure had taught them the only people they could truly trust was each other. Whether it was to give or receive affection, find unconditional love, acceptance, emotional stability and sustaining their unwavering attention for each other behind closed doors. 

  
Tony and Tea Stark were an unmitigated package deal, the infamous two-for-one _Stark Special._ Even then, they were still forced to conceal the more _unconventional_ part of their relationship. Society could never understand their combined transcendence; the constant need they had to keep in sight or sound of one another orthe darker side of the family once hailed as America’s sweethearts. 

  
Sometimes they deliberately teased at the edge of wildly inappropriate behaviour in public, just to rile up conservative minds and present the world with a glimpse of their true selves. What else would they do with their family’s infamous self-destructive tendency? 

  
The Stark twins had been born to take inherent risks, betray expectations, be arrogant, unstable, vulnerable, hedonist assholes and altogether unbothered by what the rest of the world thought. It didn’t make dealing with their current situation any easier, however. Tea understood the unspoken words in her brother’s vibrating silence a little _too_ well. 

  
Shifting slightly to appease the rhythmic clench and unclench of Tony’s palm, copper-flecked irises traced the stubborn glaze haunting manic brown eyes. A rarely seen but startling vulnerability was already bowing the engineer’s usually proud spine, the younger of the two offering his hand a consolatory squeeze as she brought scarred knuckles to her lips for an intimate kiss. 

  
“Daddy was driving, wasn’t he?” She inquired tonelessly. 

  
“Yeah.” Tony answered shortly. “It was a single car accident, Tea.” And there it was, the confirmation she had been looking for. Long oil-slick black locks fell forward to conceal the grimace crossing rapidly paling features, her forehead rubbing manically against her twin’s shoulder as she gripped his hand a little too tight. 

  
The two of them had been dreading a day like this ever since they were old enough to understand the serious problem in their family. It could come at any time: a car accident, drunk driving, narcotics, anger issues — death. So much so, that the news only provoked a strange mix of joy, sorrow, guilt, anger and shameful relief. 

  
Did it make her a monster to enjoy the thought of no longer being tied to the two people that hurt them the most? 

  
They could still mourn the last hope of restoring a broken family, yes. Even losing the last chance to be accepted by their mother and father for who they were. But Tony and Tea had learnt to navigate an increasingly convoluted emotional rollercoaster by themselves, long ago. 

  
“We’ll take it one day at a time,” She cautioned wisely. 

  
“Yeah. One day at a time.” Tony echoed numbly. He was a mass of vibrating tension beside her, even wrapped in the soothing warmth of her forgotten evening scarf. The older of the two could practically feel the bitter cold seeping from the palm of her hand into his, a stark reminder that he would always be Anthea’s first priority. 

  
It did not seem to matter that she left her winter cloak in the green room, her fingers rubbing a soothing caress up and down Tony’s arm to divert his wavering attention back to her. A small moan was slipping from the genius’ lips, his head dipping forward to nuzzle a cascade of iridescent black locks. 

  
Tea smelled _so_ good, like the first date of winter chocolate and black coffee — an illicit kiss of ivory moonlight and sex drenched skin. She was the first bloom of an effervescent rose-moon, bathed in showering milk droplets and dripping with honey confection. He didn’t want to move, to—. 

  
“Good day, Mr and Miss Stark.” The backdoor opening barely even registered, twin siblings swiftly waving away a hotel footman’s offered help as the young musician picked up her own bassoon case and gratefully accepted her brother’s calloused palm guiding her from the backseat. 

  
They were careful to avoid curious eyes following their early return from the Hall, most drinking in the elegant and completely inappropriate sweep of Tea’s performance gown. The elevator ride to the top floor was thankfully uninterrupted, neither saying a word as the opulent Royal suite opened up before them. 

  
Tea slipped passed Tony with a consolatory squeeze to the back of his neck, heading straight towards the receiving lounge as he struggled to concentrate on anything but the gleaming bar situated to the left of the room. Unsteady footsteps were slipping behind the counter in search of harder booze. Living with his father had taught him there was a lot of benefit to be had from getting blind drunk during extreme situations, especially when he didn’t want to face reality. 

  
Calloused fingertips were trembling as he poured himself a generous glass, the mere thought of his parents spilling a pool of amber across glossy granite as he jerked in surprise when a delicate hand curved around the decanter to take it away from him. Tea was tipping the crystal rim back against her lips, completely uncaring of propriety as she offered a bitter smile. 

  
Tony was momentarily stunned, to think—. 

  
“Sorry,” She wiped a lingering drop from the corner of her mouth with a pearlescent fingernail. “I really needed that.” 

  
“So do I! ” He hissed petulantly. “You don’t see me drinking from the decanter. _Fuck!_ Why didn’t I think of that?” Watching absently as the bassoonist primly seated herself on a leather stool, he was momentarily distracted as she handed the priceless crystal back to him. Their fingers lingered a few milliseconds too long, Tony deliberately pushing aside his glass so he could run his tongue back and forth across the rim where her lips had just been. 

  
He was only half picking up on the silent conversation threading between their eyes, frantically drinking in the reflection of love reaching out to him. Her warm mocha eyes had always possessed the ability to soothe his fears, calm the erratic beat of his heart and awaken a familiar but forbidden yearning deep within his soul. 

  
Right now, Tony was fighting desperately against wildly inappropriate thoughts. They had just lost both their parents, for fuck’s sake. Two people who gave them life, hope and a future filled with endless possibilities. And while he could scold himself all live-long day, did he really have an emotional foundation to stand on? Howard had always ignored them, their mother—. 

  
“Tony?” 

  
“I know.” He returned softly, wildly conflicted thoughts screaming in the back of his mind as he leaned his forehead against the granite countertop. The crash of a thousand pieces of glass barely even evoked a response, the closest breakable objects having been swept to floor in his rage. The pathetic burn of alcohol wasn’t _nearly_ enough to numb the pain. Yet. 

  
“Will you help with my shoes, Tony? I can’t bend in this fitted bodice.” Chuckling bitterly at the uncharacteristic request, Tony knew this was Tea’s way of distracting him. Uncurling his body from its clenched position, black and white sneakers crunched over priceless splinters as he dropped to one knee before her. 

  
At times like these they rarely needed to talk, not when she could read his mind by the elevated rate of his breathing, the tears of glass clouding his vision and every incendiary expression crossing emotionally drawn features. 

  
Unsteady fingertips were sliding a pool of black silk up smooth legs, imploring her to grab the excess fabric so he could fumble with glossy leather straps. His lips were laying a delicate kiss to arch of her foot, gentle digits tracing four smooth lines up apricot-oil enriched skin. 

  
Flicking heady brown eyes up to lock with carefully lowered mocha depths, Tony rumbled contentedly as his twin carded a soothing caress through dark mahogany strands. The moment her shoes hit the floor, he was pulled to his feet by his collar. 

  
“Please,” He whimpered shamelessly, hands immediately settling on the gentle slope of her waist as he pressed himself as close as possible. She was situated a few inches above him on the barstool, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth before he laid his temple against the rhythmic rise and fall of her breast. 

  
“Jasmine or Earl Grey, Tony?” She asked firmly, reading the depths of his need as dark eyes fluttered shut with needy pleasure. A breathy moan was accompanying the shuddery exhalation hissing past clenched teeth, a knowing hand tipping Tony’s head back so a pink tongue could delve between saliva-slick lips. 

  
It felt like he hadn’t tasted her in days, his body practically dripping with need to be inside her as his shoulders sagged with unprecedented relief. Only Tea had the ability to silence his thoughts like this, to chase away his emotions and focus him entirely. 

  
“Lady Grey.” He noted hoarsely, winding a possessive grip even tighter around her waist as he impatiently pulled her to her feet. 

  
“Alright.” She smiled. Tracing smoothly shaved cheeks, her galaxy lips moulded seamlessly with his as the bassoonist swayed into the trembling grip tugging down her zipper. She did not resist or fight the obvious footsteps guiding them towards the master bedroom, yanking impatiently at Tony’s hair to sway her dominance over his tongue. 

  
They didn’t get very far before the shrill ring of the telephone interrupted their progress. Tony stumbled briefly at the abrupt return to reality, Tea digging disappointed nails into the slope of his back as she heaved a frustrated sigh. 

  
“Could be important.” Before he could gather a single thought to protest, she was already halfway across the room to pick up the receiver. Judging by the abrupt fall of her features, wrinkled forehead and terse reply, they weren’t going to get a moment to themselves any time soon. 

  
Leaning the sole of his shoe against a nearby wall, dark eyes struggled to blink away the sensual haze and frustrated anger straining his gaze. This sure as hell was not how he wanted to begin their journey home, both of them forced to pack their bags because some overeager assistant filed their flight plan five hours too early. 

  
And he wasn’t even properly drunk yet. 

* * * * 

Sprawled comfortably on the couch inside the Stark Industries corporate jet, Tony drifted in and out of fitful slumber. With gentle fingertips carding softly through his hair, suspending him in an altered world of syrupy euphoria; he was slowly sinking into the scent and sound of his sister. 

  
Tea was humming a soothing lullaby their mother used to sing, invoking a trail of tears across his sorrow flushed cheeks. His grip was tightening desperately on the jean-clad thigh he had been resting against the last hour, gratefully accepting the affection and pair of designer sunglasses she handed him. 

  
Tony didn’t like the lurching sensation of the plane coming to a stop, nor the sea of flashing cameras and shouting reporters greeting them on the tarmac outside. Tea’s arm was thankfully tucked into the crook of his elbow, helping to steady his gait after the poor decision he made of drinking away his unsated arousal and frustrations over the past eight hours. 

  
It didn’t even matter that she had replaced his favourite jacket with a warmer and more formal black Burberry coat. She herself had slipped into black jeans, knee-high lace-up boots and the worn leather jacket she had stolen from him. A warm blue scarf was wound loosely around her neck, colourful hip-length strands pulled into a messy fishtail plait as several loose strands fell forward to frame stony features. 

  
With eyes rimmed red in lingering fatigue and a broken high, a perfect reflection to his, she certainly displayed less upheaval and instability than he did at the moment. But thankfully the public didn’t notice, not with the matching shades drawn over their eyes. 

  
One of their oldest friends and personal driver was waiting outside the airport, already having popped open the back door of a sombre black town car. He quietly shut the door again with a noticeable jolt, his sympathetic glance and sincere apology suddenly threatening to consume the older twin’s brief respite. 

  
“Sssh, baby. We’ll be okay.” If there was one thing Tony couldn’t stand, it was being manipulated into showing up where others wanted him or doing something that held no interest. And even though he knew it was required that they to return to the company as soon as possible to arrange the funeral and inheritance, he hadn’t been able to convince Obi or the board to give them even a single day off to deal with their parents’ death. 

  
Fuck! It was—. 

  
“Would you take us home, Happy. Please.” Startling at Tea’s words, Tony’s simmering rage was made all the worse by the overenthusiastic fourth estate chasing them down a block and a half in midday traffic. It sure as fuck seemed that one of the company secretaries, gossip pool workers or executive assistants had decided to make a killing by selling private information to the public. 

  
“Aren’t we supposed to meet with Dad’s lawyers at the office?” He asked, unsteady but determined in a world filled with merciless vultures circling the carcass of a family they once adored. 

  
“In the state you’re in, Tony? In the state I’m in? They can go fuck themselves for once, we deserve at least twenty-four-hours to deal with this _personally_.” A warm palm was winding around his trembling hand, sharp canines sinking painfully into his bottom lip as he nodded and laid his back against the headrest. 

  
She was right, what difference did a day make? Their world had already gone to shit. 

  
“It’ll be alright, darling. We’ll be home soon.” The older of two merely nodded. He had no idea what he’d do without her, he was _so_ tired. The exhaustion of the last few days was already dragging down uncooperative limbs. Tony just wanted to drift off in relative peace for a few moments, to curse the vibrating upset running through his limbs and the thoughts that wouldn’t stop reeling through his mind. 

  
The responsibilities soon to be heaped on their shoulders, he knew, was absolutely—. 

  
“It’ll be okay.” Tea reiterated. “We’ll be okay.” She was well aware that neither of them had been sleeping much, nor would they be getting much rest in the coming weeks. She also knew that as long as she stayed close to her beloved, they’d manage to find small moments to piece together their crumbling world. 

  
They had no other choice, there was only moving forward from here. 

  
There was no point in fretting about what was still coming, not when being themselves and living was all that really mattered. For all they cared, the world could wait this one. They were allowed to process their grief and push aside outside contact to preserve their sanity. 

* * * *  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've always adored twincest. This is a rewrite and repost of Chapter 1.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, darlings. I'll be back soon with an update on either of my running fics or this one. 
> 
> If you'd be so kind to leave me a little review, I'd be internally grateful to hear your opinion. 
> 
>  
> 
> Chocolate Carnival


End file.
